


Bloodlust

by inK_AddicTion



Series: Age of Rust [7]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Medical, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inK_AddicTion/pseuds/inK_AddicTion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aboard a ship preparing to sail the stars, Captain Pitchiner inspects the medical bay and talks to an old acquaintance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spankingfemme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spankingfemme/gifts).



“Excuse me, excuse me - you’re not supposed to be in here!” 

Kozmotis half-turned, just enough that the interrupter would be able to see the shining insignia threaded on his chest. Confident that the crewman would not defy their captain, he resumed his inspection of the medical bay and the cryogenics chambers adjacent to it. Everything was soft and white, gleaming faintly under the bright lights. They had been dimmed to the night-settings, no doubt in deference to this particular medic’s condition, but Kozmotis could still see clearly around the bay. 

There were twelve evenly spaced bunks already set up, securely fastened within their shock-absorber pads. The webbed harnesses that kept patients still during either tricky surgeries or hyperdrives glowed lime-green. Above each bed, a screen waited, black and empty, for the patient’s information. Smooth, rectangular panels on the walls denoted the presence of more beds and equipment, folded carefully away until they were needed. These twelve were emergency-only. 

At the far end of the medical bay, there was a door left ajar, through which were visible the icy blue coffins of the cryotanks. Those cryotanks were the secret behind human intergalactic travel; with them, humans could be frozen in an unchanging state, revived after the years had gone past to arrive at their destination, or able to endure much faster speeds without risking their fragile bodies.

Well, one of the secrets of interstellar travel. The other secret stood right behind him, hovering anxiously with translucent-pale fingers twitching as if he longed to yank Kozmotis’ unpracticed hands away from his medical equipment before he messed something up. Just to tease, Kozmotis patted one of the hospital beds.

“Spotless, as ever, medic,” he said, turning to look at the vampire.

Apollo glowered back at him, but the effect was thoroughly ruined by how much he had to tilt his head up to look Kozmotis in the eye. Kozmotis thought Apollo had been brought over (one of the more tactful ways of referring to one’s becoming a vampire) sometime in the early 3000s, and he still had the same, timeless body since, which posed no problem, except that the human race had not stopped evolving and well, to put it simply, Apollo was out of date… and  _ short.  _ His facial structures were oddly positioned, too, with a wide jaw, smallish eyes, and his limbs were stubbier than the average modern human’s, with small fingers and, most oddly of all,  _ toes.  _ The first time that Apollo had taken his boots off in front of Kozmotis had been something of a great shock. He’d thought that the vampire had been diseased with some sort of flesh mutation, too much stale blood maybe.

Vampires were the only reason that cryogenics worked. Without them to carefully monitor the ship and their sleeping crewmates, it simply wouldn’t be possible.

“Not anymore,” the medic snapped, “Get out of the way - move, move, I’ve got to disinfect that now-”

Obligingly, Kozmotis let himself be moved, chuckling a little at Apollo’s flapping hands and sharp, jerky movements. He always had a particular way of moving, sudden and startling, as if his body had grown too used to extended periods of stillness to remember otherwise. The dimmed lights shone dully against his skin, reflective and glossy like onion-peel, in the fine white strands of his bleached hair.

“Good to see that some things don’t change,” he snorted, not unkindly, and Apollo shot him a glare, tiny slit pupil nearly swallowed by his disconcertingly pale iris. 

“I am a  _ vampire, _ I am the definition of unchanging.”

Leaning against the wall, Kozmotis’ smile slipped a little as he watched Apollo work. Privately, he admitted to himself that it was good to see the snappish, often irascible medic again - he had feared after their last voyage that Apollo would have been exposed (another polite term for the only surefire murder of vampires, which was leaving their bodies outside in the heat of a sun and allow them to dehydrate until they cracked and turned into dust) for what they had done together. Several lines had been breached, and breached severely. 

It had been an accident, really. The bloodbanks had burst mid-flight, and Apollo had been stranded, suppy-less. He’d held out for as long as he could, but he couldn’t starve himself forever. Kozmotis, as the captain of the ship, had taken responsibility and allowed Apollo to… take directly from the source, lest they risk a feral vampire loose on the ship.

The memory of the last time they had seen each other overwhelmed him then, and Kozmotis sighed heavily, and sat down on a hospital bed, bowing his head. His neck throbbed with the memory of phantom bites, and he shuddered as he felt Apollo’s chilled hands roaming over his body all over again. 

“Kozmotis…?” 

The soft whisper startled him. The last time Apollo had called him by his given name had been in far darker circumstances, those plush soft lips brushing his ear, kissing his jaw, working down to his neck and his thrumming pulse-point. Even now, his blood warmed in memory. He looked up, caught off guard, and saw Apollo, worrying his lip lightly between his sharp, sharp teeth, fidgeting with his hands. If vampires could blush, Kozmotis supposed that Apollo would be, because his eyes were downcast and his foot scuffed the floor. 

He cleared his throat, and then reassumed his facade, “That is, do you require my services, Captain Pitchiner?”

“No,” said Kozmotis firmly, trying to regain authority in his tone. He felt ashamed for showing his feelings so openly; they had both agreed that it had been a desperate measure, and had sworn before every testimony that they weren’t a risk for cooperation in the future. Or, to put it bluntly, Apollo hadn’t  _ enthralled  _ Kozmotis with his bite, hadn’t made him into a mindless bloodbank for his own pleasure. Sometimes, Kozmotis wondered if Apollo hadn’t changed something in him, some mindless beast that liked to sit in the back of his mind and distract him with memories of Apollo’s teeth in his neck and his moans in his ear, those cold hands flushing warm with Kozmotis’ blood, because stars only knew Kozmotis wasn’t eager to examine the origin of those intrusive thoughts.

Nonetheless, when Apollo flinched a little at Kozmotis’ hard voice, he couldn’t deny that it made everything feel so much worse.

Apollo saluted with trembling hands, then made to back away. 

“Apollo?” Kozmotis said sharply, and the vampire froze. “Do… do you have everything you need?”

Apollo glanced sidelong at another panel in the wall, behind which the bloodbank was stored, along with all the precious blood that would keep their vampiric guardians alive while the humans slept soundly in the cryotanks. It was possibly the most fortified thing in the entire ship. No one wanted to risk the vampires losing their food supply, and turning to… other measures.  _ Again. _

The skin on Kozmotis’ neck prickled again, and he swallowed.

“Yes, sir,” Apollo said quietly. “There’s… plenty enough, and there won’t be a problem with leaks.” 

The unspoken  _ “this time”  _ rang out bright and clear. Apollo wasn’t looking Kozmotis in the eye, and Kozmotis wondered if he was remembering the same thing Kozmotis was, Apollo’s hands in his hair, his teeth in his jugular, squirming and moaning on his lap as Kozmotis’ blood gushed hot and wet into his mouth.

_ Of course not,  _ Kozmotis thought to himself sternly. Apollo had drunk from more people than Kozmotis had probably even seen in his life, considering how old the vampire was.  _ Don’t kid yourself, you’re nothing special,  _ he reminded himself.

Kozmotis nodded sharply one last time, then hurried to leave, doing his best to ignore how his heart thudded and how his skin felt sensitive, his body aching in memory. 

He had a feeling that his dreams wouldn’t be sweet that night.


End file.
